The Not-Valentine's
by Libri Crudelitatis
Summary: Everyone knew that the date february 14th was something special and yet, Valentine's was overrated and helped neither Soul nor Maka in the slightest. Another Valentine's, another chance, another possible loss. How good that Valentine's was just jinx and that they believed in it little enough to not depend on it for maybe-confessions.
1. That day again

**Ehm. This is a chapter story, but the second chapter will probably take a while. I apologize in advance.**

* * *

Although Shibusen was a rather … _unusual_ school, there were some times when the meisters and weapons didn't seem too different from normal students. One of those events was Valentine's Day.

Well, it might have not been _too_ different from other institutions, but in an academy where the students were educated in killing pre-kishins and aligning wavelengths, most of them already from childhood on, not even something as simple as giving chocolates could be the same as in other schools. Normal schools.

Fights against aforementioned pre-kishins or traitorous witches who didn't heed the pact could end up deadly and most of the battle-hardened students were so focussed on classes, training and missions that they hardly had the nerve or the time to pursue a serious romantic relationship, but ironically it was the elite group Spartoi where love had been blossoming the strongest in Shibusen recently.

Though, recently might have been the wrong thing to say, or maybe the right word to use instead of "blossoming" would be "realized", the feelings had begun to grow years ago after all, but as a thirteen-year-old a person would tend to misread their own emotions of love as a very strong friendship or devotion to their partner. Now all of Spartoi had grown in height, strength and also wisdom and knew how to read what was there correctly.

So apart from Kim and Ox, who had already hooked up long ago because of his constant noisiness about how much he adored her, several teens were troubled as to whether they should use the opportunity of Valentine's Day to confess to their special person or to give it a rest and shut up about it for the next few decades and maybe longer, an option that wouldn't seem too appealing to anyone normal.

And that was where the difference came in: Yes, any normal person would never even consider the second option, but a weapon that was possibly in love with his meister would act on caution first, not on feelings. Could you still be in an effective partnership if a rejection would make everything awkward? Would the rejector still trust the rejected with everything when the rejected was looking for something more and possibly restraining himself from jumping the rejector? Could a partnership be wrecked by something as simple as a confession?

Those were pretty much the thoughts of Soul "Eater" Evans, the last deathscythe in history, self-proclaimed cool guy and hopelessly in love with his meister.

She was determined, she was gorgeous, she had a temper like Godzilla, she was violent when she was cranky and most of all, she was too good for him. The possibility that Maka, his wonderful, strong, _beautiful_ meister could maybe fall for him seemed to have chances about nil. He would lose so much if he decided to go ahead and tell her when she didn't have those feelings towards him. It would probably be too much to handle.

He had tried dating before, back when he still didn't know what the weird warm feeling in his chest appearing whenever his Maka was concerned meant, back when he still only wanted to get away from it. It hadn't worked. He had found something wrong with the girl every time of the few dates it took for him to understand, be it that they were too dumb, too flirtatious, too just-not-right and a bunch of other things. One time, he even thought that a girl's bust was too big. He had slightly wondered if that was even possible and the answer was surprisingly little in his favour. When it finally got to him that he had been searching for traits of Maka in every girl that came his way, that she was the one he wanted, that he'd never want anyone that wasn't her, he had pretty much given up hope about the whole romance thing. It still bugged him though, thoughts of _why didn't he do something about it already_ running through his head every so often.

And if he gave him a chance, if she gave him just one single chance, he wouldn't fuck it up, not with her, not with that. If she ever gave him a chance, he was going to nail it. It might have been stupid to other people if they knew just how hung up he was on this girl, but to him it would be a lifelong goal to get her to love him in a different way than platonic. If she ever gave him a chance, he wasn't going to let her go that easily.

But if there was one thing that was certain, it was that she would never tell him something like deeper running affections on a whim. She was the kind of person that would simply bottle it all up inside her and try to forget it without saying a word to anyone. Her trust in stabile romantic relationships was currently higher than before, but he was sure it was far from easily accepting matters that had to do with possible cheating and the broken pieces that it caused. That was why if he ever wanted to change things, he'd have to take matters in his own hands.

If he'd change them in a positive or a negative direction was yet to be decided.

* * *

Unbeknownst to Soul, the subject of his thoughts and affection, scythe meister Maka Albarn, was thinking about similar things. Ironically, they were thoughts about her weapon, who had no idea of his incredible luck and was thinking about how he didn't have much chances with her, just like Maka was thinking about how much she loved, adored – everything she once swore she'd never do – her weapon.

How in the world had it gotten this bad? When exactly had things changed from simply caring for her weapon to missing his mere presence and feeling the addicting need to always stay by his side? When exactly had the walls she had built to protect herself from romantic feelings and the sorrows that came with them crumbled? She only knew that they had and that if she just blurted this out sometime, she would probably mess up their partnership badly if he didn't feel the same.

If.

Because no matter how she looked at it, it wasn't 100% sure that he didn't like her that way and the small chance that he did could come true in a heartbeat. Still, that did not mean that she had to take a small chance like that, even if she wanted to just throw away all caution and reason away and – mind you – jump him the next time he stood before her simply being himself. It would be like gambling and Maka Albarn did not gamble. Maka Albarn calculated.

But how could she calculate a person like Soul?

She stared at her reflection in the mirror, as if her self on the other side of the glass could tell her the answers to all of her problems. It stared back just as blankly and she wanted to chop _herself._ It was unsettling enough that for once she didn't know the answers to the test of life that should have been obvious to her, but consoling her mirror image about it went too far.

She splashed a little cold water into her face and chided herself for thinking about things that would do her no good and inevitably make her feel lonely. Especially on this horrible, horrible date, February 14th, the accursed day where nearly seventy percent of the female student body decided to profess their so-called "undying love" for her weapon with a letter, chocolates or full-front confessions. Take your pick.

School today would be such a pain.

* * *

As expected the classroom was noisy today, full of blushing, giggling girls and loudly boasting boys, shouting out how many chocolates they had gotten before class alone. Most of it was probably a lie, because if she added up all the chocolates they had presumably gotten, that would be more than the number of girls who had even arrived at Shibusen up until now. She shook her head at the stupidity of it all.

In the next seconds however, that consisted of Dr. Stein coming (or rather rolling) in and telling them just what they'd dissect today, a change erupted from the carpet of annoying noise:

Apparently Patty did not like the fact that their teacher had made their dissection-object for today a giraffe – a baby giraffe at that – and threw herself at him with a battle cry and a mean glint in her eyes, attempting to save the innocent animal from the maniac's clutches. Despite her heroic measures to come to the poor thing's rescue like Superman would have done, Stein simply dodged her and threw a scalpel in Patty's general direction. The blade barely missed her.

But Patty, silly as she might have been, had lived years on the streets and knew how to play her cards. In this case: Kid. As the new Shinigami, he managed to bribe – ah, no, _persuade_ the crazy scientist to use his secondary dissection object today and let the giraffe be brought to the nearest zoo. Given that there wasn't a zoo in Death City, Patty decided to keep it until she could bring it to one.

The scene was so ridiculous that Maka felt the corners of her mouth lift up in a smile. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. Today – that she was sure of – would be the one time she was glad that her friends were such lunatics.

And she was right. Patty's animal-loving side that almost cuddled the little giraffe beside her seat to death, Kid's little but continuous symmetry-fits about the asymmetrical Valentine cards everyone was showing off, Liz's Brooklyn Mode, that activated when she was annoyed by constantly being interrupted from the serious task of painting her nails red by too many suitors that immediately ran away after a few death glares and death threats, Stein's normal freakiness, Marie's overly happy gushing at the romantic day and her students, and also Black Star's anger when anyone that wasn't Kid, Soul or female dared to come to close to his goddess were things that made the contras of the day worthwhile.

Contras like the sea of letters in Soul's locker, the mountains of chocolate on Soul's seat, the sheer number of girls that confessed to Soul, and the lack of any romantic interest directed towards her. Not that she would have responded to it, it just would have been nice knowing that someone appreciated her in any other way than as the meister who had made the last deathscythe. It wasn't that unreasonable to ask that someone noticed her as a girl, right?

Because her ankles were not fat and her breasts may have been a little under average, but they were certainly there and noticeable, Soul could go die in a hole. She doubted that he knew enough of the female anatomy to appreciate or degrade it. It was just his subjective opinion. And sadly, that was the one opinion she wanted to be positive.

Well, it wasn't like there was anything she could do to change his opinion on her sex-appeal or lack thereof. Besides seduction maybe, but that was a job she would gladly leave to Blair. It didn't seem to work either. After years of stuffing her breasts in Soul's face, the cat had still not accomplished anything besides major nosebleeds and Maka-chops.

Not that the feline would really have wanted to, that would have just been plain creepy. The cat and her weapon, who was decidedly too young for her, even if the purring seductress might or might not have had a thing for younger boys? That was something she wouldn't want to see. If that had anything to do with her dislike to see Soul hook up with _any_ girl (or guy for that matter, she wouldn't judge him), that was her problem.

The rest of the day went by as predicted. Stein dissected, couples were born, girls confessed to Soul. He rejected every single one of them. Sometimes she wanted to ask him why, only to see that he was looking at her, eyes begging her silently to rescue him, he couldn't stand those fangirls any longer. And she would roll her eyes and tug him away before some drooling female went apeshit and jumped him. They were pretty annoying and one glance at Soul's face told her he thought the same.

They went through the back door that day and left the motorcycle at school. Walking was better than being overrun by a dozen of girls that saw the bike as the perfect confession place. They thought they could trap Soul into a corner, because he _had_ to get his precious bike. Too bad her weapon was smart enough to use another route. The walking didn't do him any harm either.

At home, the atmosphere felt like every day again, warm and comfortable. She cooked, he did the dishes and when they watched TV, some drama that she didn't really pay attention to, they lay together on their small couch, limbs entangled and breaths almost mingling.

Another Valentine's Day down.


	2. Post-war

**This chapter should actually be called "The Chapter In Which Nothing Really Happens", but that would be too long, even though it would probably be very descriptional (is that even a word?) and fitting. But I hope you'll enjoy the nothingness, even if it is, well, _nothingness_. About thousand words of nothingness actually. But I'm rambling, aren't I? Ehhhh … onto the story!**

* * *

He stared at the date. February 15th. He stared again. It didn't change no matter how much he glared at it.

Valentine's day was over. And he hadn't told her.

He was so damn stupid. For once in a year, the romantic atmosphere throughout the day had been exceptional and he had wanted to use that as a kind of, well, help. And look at what it had brought him. In the end, he hadn't had the courage to do it and even though the atmosphere hadn't gotten down the drain, it hadn't helped him either. Now the anticipating mood of Valentine's was gone for good and would be replaced by the cheesy After-Valentine's air. It made him cringe at the whole sappiness and corny love-sayings and after years of living with Maka he knew that she felt the same at the post-war-atmosphere.

Post-war atmosphere with him as one of the side that had lost yesterday. The side that hadn't been able to win for yet another year. The winners though, they were awful, always, every Valentine's. It wasn't that they did anything to spite the losing side, it was simply their existence that was unfair in itself, the existence of winners who had gotten the girl with not even half as much trying and pining as him. They would smile broadly, show off their happiness to the world and be all happy-go-lucky. Then there were the real bastards that ogled way too many girls for their newly acquired girlfriend to find funny. Simply put, they would just be _there_ and be there as winners that sometimes couldn't even value their victory.

Being on the losing side sucked.

He looked at the calendar again and the date didn't change. Well. There was that. And with one last glance at the clock he decided to wake up before alternatively Blair or Maka made him. Those "wakings" ended up with a get-together with the frying pan most of the time, so they weren't exactly nice.

Whatever. Better wake up before Maka got cranky.

* * *

He had experienced it beforehand, he had expected it and yet he was dumbfounded by the number of cheesy looks and lines he encountered. They made him fall into cold sweat and even though he would have definitely liked to get the girl, it would have been hell and totally weird if Maka said something like that to him. Corny. Sappy. Itchy. Then again, Maka seemed even more irritated by the whole ordeal than him and that said pretty much everything. He was pretty sure that she was about to kill the next couple that dared to be lovey-dovey before her eyes and years of experience had taught him to pull his irked meister away before the scenario from last year could happen again. He shuddered inwardly at the thought. Yeah, a repeat from last year would be bloody. And creepy. And fucking terrifying in his opinion.

When they passed a corridor leading into the unfathomable labyrinths of Shibusen, he made the mistake of looking sidewards. Only a few seconds later and farther away did he register that he had just witnessed Kid sneaking his hand under Liz' shirt while she had been … biting him? Sure, Kid wasn't exactly a student anymore, quite the opposite actually, but urgh. The Shinigami could at least keep the groping at home. It was just … unfair.

When he heard a Maka-esque gasp behind him and turned to see his gaping, red-faced meister, he noticed that she had seen too. She looked absolutely like a librarian in the movies, the one that was going to lecture the students about proper school behaviour and public decency. She'd make a great librarian, a freaking hot one. So incredibly hot that that should be a crime in itself. Something about the image of her as a librarian surrounded by her lethal weapons half to wholly naked was very … his thoughts were kind of derailing into the dangerous zone of fantasies.

She was definitely overreacting though. Sure, they shouldn't really do something like that in a public space, but at least they had found a dark, narrow hallway that no one went through to do that. It wasn't like they had been doing anything beyond groping and biting.

"Th-that … how … _why are they having sex on school grounds?"_

Se- whoa, what?! Kid and Liz hadn't been doing that, he would have noticed. That, and he was sure that they had both still had their pants on, which would lead to the very imminent question, what the hell Maka had seen.

"What're you talking about?"

"The hallway on our right! They were … and … and then …"

Oh. The other hallway. Other people.

"They shouldn't be doing … that_._ Not on _school grounds_. _**Not where everybody can see them!**__"_

Maka was beet red by then and he halted to pull her into a corner. She would kill him if he let her walk into class that red and spluttering. When she could think again she would, that was. She wasted no time thinking like him and buried her face in her hands, banging her head against the wall. That had to have been some serious lovemaking if it disturbed her this much.

"Cool down. Just … think of books or homework or other nerdy stuff."

She glared at him behind her bangs and he had the sudden apprehension that he would probably end up being the successor of the wall she had brutally acquainted her head with before his intrusion. Only that he wouldn't be as unyielding as the wall and that he'd rather keep his blood to himself, black or not. To his luck though, Maka didn't do anything. Well, anything that had to do with potential harm against him, she did sigh and rest her forehead against the wall.

"You know, if you're exhausted already, it's just gonna get worse. The post-war atmosphere will be that much more sickening by lunchtime."

She chuckled slightly. "Post-war? That's a new one."

"I guess. We should probably get going. You'll be late."

"Only me? You don't care about being late yourself?"

"Eh, doesn't matter. 'M cool either way."

"Says the same person that cried because of the end of a chickflick."

"Shut up, you know what I mean."

"Mmhm. Sure, _cool guy_, lead the way."

With that she placed her hand in his. Apparently she meant "leading her to the classroom" very literally and he wouldn't argue with that. Her hand in his felt nice, like it always did, but there was no way he'd actually tell her that. At least not today. So he made sure to tug her with him without another word and without a single glance at their linked fingers, because it would have made hopes more prominent that he wasn't even sure he should be having. Better being a pessimist and getting a nice surprise than being an optimist and getting crushed by a not so nice surprise. Because he probably would end up being surprised, it was Maka after all.

With a little smile he tossed his earlier thoughts away and took a spare glance back at her. She smiled back when she noticed and just for a moment he felt her hand tightening its hold on his.

So maybe he was too optimistic. Maybe he shouldn't dare hope so much. Maybe the surprise he would get wouldn't be that nice after all. But as he mentally prepared himself for the battlefield of After-Valentine's, her small, warm hand in his, he couldn't care less.


	3. Washroom of Confessions

**So, uh, first sorry for taking so long. I was pretty busy with a writing contest, so I hope you'll forgive me. And second, this chapter is a (slightly belated) birthday present for Tigerlillyth. Hope you like it and may this year bring you luck :)**

* * *

She wanted to kill someone right now. Preferably with bloodshed and many, many broken bones.

Why was it that even when Valentine's was over, the battle still continued? And this fiercely at that! Why did all the couples seem to try to outdo the others through sappiness, the "best atmosphere" and the fanciest date, she wondered. It almost seemed to her that the dazzlingness of the relationship was more important than the relationship itself, that which was – or should at least be – the actual cause for the dazzlingness. Now it apparently all came down to money and the ability to hold up a farce of happiness. It was as if Valentine's and the relationships that followed were done simply for the sake of popularity and the opportunity for easy lays. It was just ridiculous.

Most relationships that were born from the stupidly pink day didn't last more than two weeks anyway, so why go through the trouble of spending so much money and time on something that would shatter so soon after?

Maybe she was biased. She was, after all, one of the people that would never use something as simple as a so-called special day for something like a confession. She could see how the atmosphere might help a little, but in the end the chances for success were as high as on any other day. In fact, other days might even have a higher success rate. It all depended on how you played your cards and she couldn't see how the date february 14th was in any way a benefit.

She had once asked herself if she didn't like the atmosphere because she had no one to enjoy it with, but she had realized very fast that she just disliked the idea of a single day to show affection, as if it wasn't necessary on the remaining 364 days. It reminded her too much of her father, who used to cheat on those 364 days, yet never failed to make the biggest speeches of her mother's beauty and bring her the fanciest bouquets. No doubt a favour from the last florist he had fooled around with.

She was now honestly contemplating to ask someone (probably Soul, really) out, on a day before the next accursed V-day, only to avoid even the slightest chance of being asked out on exactly that day. Someone _would_ ask her out, and if not next year, then the one after, because by then all the other girls would either be taken or an ex. With each year it became more apparent just how much more boys than girls went to Shibusen. And when finally someone decided to use her as a last result, she didn't want to bash in their face for feeling hopeful and courageous enough to ask anyone out, even if it was a last chance kind of thing.

That was really the only thing she envied all those lovesick fools for. Courage. She might have a great deal of it when she dealt with battles and powerful foes, but when it came to love, she was a little lost. Maybe it had to do with the fact that normally Soul was always there to back her up, even in the darkest of situations. But not now. This was something she had to do alone, something she had to gather the courage for by herself. She wasn't stupid enough to think that she would still be alone with her feelings after she had told him. Even if it ended in a painful rejection, he would still be there. He was just that loyal. That was still no reason not to be afraid though. Yes, he would still be there, but no one said it wouldn't get awkward. That was most of the reason why she hadn't told him yet. The other was that even though she could read him like a book, she couldn't figure out why it was that he hadn't made a move on _anyone_ yet.

"Maka, it's lunchtime. The wall's already terrified enough, you can stop glarin' at it."

She looked up to find almost everyone gone from the classroom and the sight of Soul looming over her, looking a bit impatient and almost … worried? She tried to glare at him for being so annoying (she had been halfway through sorting her thoughts, that was almost as if she was halfway through reading a book), but she gave it up after a grand total of forty seconds, because she could not glare at someone who had perfected the kicked puppy look, although she wasn't quite sure that he even knew he did it.

"Sorry, just a little irritated. Let's go already."

When she stood up and walked past him, she could swear she heard him mutter something about weird bookworms, but she let it slide when she noticed the relief in his voice. It made her feel bad, because here he had been genuinely worried about her and she hadn't done anything but glare and throw a few words at him. Then again, he couldn't have been that worried. What was there so worrisome about her spacing out? It would have been different if she had been sunken into her thoughts while something important came up, because then he would have known that something was wrong with her, that it wasn't just something small, but he had believed her when she had chalked it up to some little irritation. He couldn't have known.

Come to think of it, he worried about her a lot. And excessively, almost as if he found some sick pleasure in it. She had come to terms with it early on, had never questioned it, but what exactly was his reason for it? She might have just dismissed it as a weapon thing, but she didn't think any other weapon was quite as protective of their meister as Soul was of her. Except of course for the ones who were … seriously romantically involved with their partner. Did that mean that she could hope?

She looked back at Soul, who raised an eyebrow quizzically, and a new doubt rose in her mind. If by any chance he did feel something for her, why hadn't he acted on it? Right. Because there probably weren't any feelings to begin with. Not like hers at least.

"Something the matter?"

Actually, yes. Did he love her? Was it alright if she told him that she did or would she just make a fool out of herself? Did she have a chance? Would he give her a chance? She wanted to ask him all of it, but her throat constricted painfully and she wasn't able to say any of it.

"No. Yes. I'm … just going to the toilet, can you save me a seat? And get me a sandwich?"

"Demanding, aren't we?"

"Please?"

"Alright. Just don't take to long or Star'll eat your precious sandwich."

"Mhm. Will do."

They parted ways after that and she could feel his eyes linger on her back, worry flaring up in his soul again. She should have acted differently, dammit. Not so _un_Maka. She was feeling very unMaka too, all insecure and fearful. Shouldn't she be more courageous than this? It was no wonder that he was worrie about her, she would have been too. She had to get a grip on herself or she would just cause Soul unnecessary worry. She didn't want to burden him with anything, much less her jumpy thoughts. At least she felt his gaze leave her after she went around a corner. Hopefully he would be distracted by Black Star or Patty or someone else and forget that she had been worryingly unMaka today.

She sighed as she rounded another corner to the girls' washroom. She would have to spend the rest of the day pretending to feel to feel perfectly _Maka _or he would just go on worrying himself to death.

In the washroom, she splashed a little water at her face and noticed, as she looked into the mirror, that she had done the exact same thing yesterday. And like then she didn't have any intentions of sharing her emotional problems with her mirror self. It wouldn't have helped anyway. It wasn't as if an inanimate object (or the reflection on it) could tell her the solution to the universe or just her own little turmoil.

"I like you!"

A girl's voice broke the silence and she turned around, a little miffed. If she, whoever she was, was confessing to a boy, then _why was there a boy in the girls' bathroom?_

There wasn't one. There wasn't anyone. Just a girl, red-faced, was standing in front of her. She faintly remembered her to be one of the younger years of the NOT class. Her name … she believed that it started with an R or a Z, but she didn't actually remember it. The girl was still just standing there, looking at her and – oh no. Oh no, no, no. It wasn't … it wasn't _her_ the girl was talking to, right? Surely there had been some weird coincidence for the girl to look at her while she said something like that, right? She was probably just practising confessing, right?

"I like you, Maka Albarn!"

Or maybe not.

"Would you please go out with me?"

What in the world had she gotten herself into this time?


End file.
